Rite of the Calling
by isflamma
Summary: She can feel her body coming alive, living in tune with the ancient rythm of the world. The wind whispers across her again, and as the small hairs on her body rise to it's call she knows it is time. The Rite of the Calling has begun. Teylacentric


This is a little something that came to me while I listened to the soundtrack for _Memoirs of a Geisha_ for the first time, so naturally it is the recommended soundtrack for this fic.

The story and words are mine, but my beta Severedwing makes it readable for the rest of you so big thanks, as always, to her!

I don't own anything related to Stargate: Atlantis. MGM and whoever holds those rights…

The instruments are all bogus, make their sounds your own…

Now go enjoy the story, and let me know if you did/didn't!!!

Rite of the calling 

A whisper of wind slightly flutters her hair, a few strands sway before her eyes. She does nothing to push them aside; only closes her eyes. The wind blows past her, softly rustling the leaves in the trees close by. The wind again whispers in her hair, stronger this time as if it is trying to tell her something. Yet she does not move. It is not yet time.

There is a slight movement behind her, but she knows that she does not need to pay any attention to it, not here, not now. It is almost time. She can feel her body coming alive: a light blush has spread over her caramel-colored skin, giving it a soft glow: her breathing is gentle yet deeper than normal: the slow rhythm of her heart beats in time with the ancient rhythm of the world. The wind whispers across her again, and as the small hairs on her body rise to it's call she knows it is time.

As if in tune with her body and the ancient Rite of Calling she is about to perform, the sound of the _Rittae_ gently rattling begins at the same moment that her hands gently glide up her body, caressing her face before continuing upward still, reaching as far as they can, trying to touch the stars above. She stands perfectly still until the _Rittae_ is joined by the slow beat of the _Calleo_ drum. First her hands begin to slowly sway. Soon after her arms join in. Hypnotically they sway, back and forth, to the sides and in circles. The Rite of the Calling has begun.

The two instruments are joined by a third, the _Fioletta_, the sounds of it strings perfectly echoing the emotion of the dance, as her upper body now joins the soft swaying of her arms. Still she has not moved from where she stands. Soon the _Careck _will join in the music, and it's darker, melancholy strings will call her to move. So she enjoys the peace that has filled her since she came to her place in the woods. It will stay with her until the rite is completed, but soon she will not be able to focus on it as completely any longer.

Without having noticed it, too deep in the peace, she now enters the Second stage of the Rite. Her arms slowly fall to her sides, only to come alive again as her body begins its dance. It is a slow dance, taking great dedication and will to perform. In response to her call, the wind once again whispers past her, this time in joy. She lets go of her conscious thoughts and simply lets instinct and training guide her body: when to sway, when to bend and bow, when to glide with the wind, when to stand fast on the ground, when to fall, and when to jump and fly. She does not even notice that the last instruments have joined in, her heart and soul her only guides now. Then suddenly, she shudders and falls to the ground. The Third stage has begun.

She can no longer hear the alarmed voices around her, nor the ones that command them not to interfere. Her body shudders on the ground, wracked by the power of the Rite. She can feel herself falling, endlessly falling, until suddenly the wind lifts her up and then she flies. The Calling comes upon her and her voice suddenly fills the heavens. The song that spills from her is one she has never heard before, but one that she knows by heart somehow. She cannot tell what it is she sings, or even if there are words, she only knows that the Calling is being made.

She shudders again, but this time from pleasure. She cannot open her eyes to see, but her other senses are stronger then ever, guiding her through her loss of sight. She can feel the soft caress on her body as never before, making her senses ache for more. Her song becomes filled with longing as she hungers for more, and the Calling is answered by a stronger touch. Her song is filled with her cries of joy and pleasure from the touch, and the caress becomes stronger still. The wind swirls around her, gently drawing her back to her song. Drawing her to it's end.

Her song begins to fade, and the Calling is coming to its end. She slowly sinks down from the skies, the wind gently setting her down. She feels her feet touch the ground, and soon after the hands of someone holding her up. The song is dying on her lips, becoming forgotten once again. She can feel tears flowing down her face at the loss, and she hears the music that was once a part of her now being played by someone else. Her heart and soul cry out in grief, the painful sound leaving her lips and blending into her song. The music fades away, instrument by instrument, and she cries silently, knowing that the end of the Rite is upon her, and that she will become herself again as the last sound is played.

She stands on the ground now, one with the earth again, the playful wind gone. Her body feels empty, cold, hollow as if she had lost herself in the skies.

And then something unexpected happens. She feels the earth flow into her, filling her, the wind whispering to her, telling her what is to come, the rain falling on her, drowning her in need, and finally a fire burning desperately inside her. She shudders as she is overcome by feeling, by the knowledge of what is happening. She needs to tell the others, but her voice has almost been completely stolen, her body now almost out of her control. Something whispered inside her. She opens her eyes in a desperate attempt to convey what is happening to the one that is holding her, but it is too late, and she can only whisper a name before she succumbs to the dark. The Fourth and final stage of the Rite of Calling has begun.

Tbc?

AN: I'm working on a second part, but the best way to get one is to let me know if you want it. In general I love feedback! I live on it!


End file.
